


Take Me Home

by deanwaterkeep



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, allura and keith are bffs, also lance is a bartender, because allura/keith friendship is my favorite thing, broganes, he's also shiro's adopted brother, keith is half japanese, keith was forced to go clubbing, plus he wears contacts/glasses because why not, they took a walk on the beach, theyre like all ooc probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwaterkeep/pseuds/deanwaterkeep
Summary: Keith's so called friends insist he go clubbing with them. Lance is one of the bartenders. They meet.





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pretty sure i wrote this before season 7 came out and now season 8's out and everything's a trainwreck but it's f i n e
> 
> also this is the first time i've posted a fic before and i'm actually really nervous because i don't like to share my writing very much lmao not to mention this kinda sucks but its 2019 and we're stepping out of our comfort zones babey !!!
> 
> anyway klance owns my ass and hopefully you like this more than i do even if that isn't saying much lmao
> 
> edit: i've been notified that keith should just throw his contacts away because keeping them is tap water doesn't help, so i'll be fixing that as soon as i get the time  
> edit 2: fixed it :)

“I don’t understand _why_ you thought this was a good idea—”

“You need to get out more, Keith,” Shiro said, cutting him off. “Isolating yourself all the time isn’t healthy and you know it.”

An annoyed sigh was the only response Keith gave as they made their way toward the club. He got out _plenty_. Not necessarily _with_ _people_ , but that wasn’t the point. The blatant truth was that he preferred spending time alone.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t have friends to hangout with, because he did, really. Granted, he didn’t have many, but that just meant he was even closer with the few he did have. Despite that, though, being alone just came easier to him. It was what he was used to, and it was a difficult mold to break out of.

When Keith hesitated at the entrance, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You just gotta relax,” Adam said. “Have a drink, make conversation. Simple as that.”

He snorted. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got Shiro,” he muttered. “But fine. I’ll try.”

Once he was inside, however, the only thing that kept him from instantly leaving was the arm around his shoulder. Despite his squirming, Shrio held firm—much to the protest of all his instincts, which told him to _get out._

With a sigh, Shiro said, “It’ll be fine. Baby steps.”

“Because clubbing is a baby step,” Keith replied, glaring at him. He tried again to squeeze out of the grip Shiro had on him, though it ended up being futile.

“I’m telling you, it’ll be fun if you just stop being so negative.”

“You really aren’t making this any easier for me,” Keith said.

Adam laughed. “Forget it, Takashi,” he said. “He’s hopeless. We’ll have to leave it to Allura.”

“Leave what to me, you say?”

Keith spun around to see none other than Allura walk in through the doors, a wide grin on her face. A loose, dark purple dress adorned her body, cinched at the waist with a thin, white belt.

“Ah, there you are,” Adam said, his glasses glinting under all the lights. “Keith’s refusing to try and have fun.”

Shiro raised a brow. “I think it’s more of a having trouble letting loose.”

Waving him off, Adam said, “Pfft, they’re the same thing when it comes down to it, right?”

Shiro opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything Allura was speaking. “Whatever it is, leave it to me. You two go have fun.”

Keith was about to protest when suddenly Allura’s arm was swung around his shoulder, half dragging him over to the bar. The crowds they had to push through were _suffocating_ , and it felt like the walk to the counter was never going to end.

 _And this is only the beginning of the night,_ he realized painfully. _It’s only going to get worse._

Finally, they broke free from the groups of people, coming up on two conveniently empty barstools. Allura doesn’t let him go until they’re both firmly seated, and Keith doesn’t run away only because he knows she could easily pull him back.

She ordered two drinks as one of the bartenders come buy, but Keith was too distracted by the blaring music to listen to what she asked for. When he sips the reddish drink, though, it’s actually quite nice.

"You like it, right?” she said, a hint of smugness in her tone. At his nod, she beamed. “See? I know your tastes.”

“After nine years, I’d hope so,” he replied. Allura only shrugged at that, looking sheepish.

They talked about anything and everything as they finished up their drinks, the people around them getting drunker as the night wore on. The mild alcohol influence made it slightly more tolerable, but for the most part Keith still wanted to be anywhere but there.

With her second glass empty on the counter, Allura clapped her hands together. “Aright. Now that you’re somewhat tipsy,” she started, “we should do something fun.”

“Here? Impossible.”

She groaned. “Please, Keith. This is the first time you’ve been out in forever, we must make the most of it.”

“More like _you_ have to make the most of it,” he grumbled.

“Adam was right. You’re hopeless.” she said with a sigh. “Also, where _is_ Adam?

Keith shrugged. “Somewhere off with Shiro,” he said. “You did tell them to ‘have fun.’”

Allura gave him a pointed look. “And hopefully they are, so they can make up for the lack of it you’re having,” she said, then stood with a sense of finality. “Now, come on. At least dance with me?”

“Do I hav—?”

“It’s either that or I challenge you to shots, and I doubt you’re in the mood to get wasted, yes?”

There was a pause. “Fine,” Keith relented, following Allura out to the dance floor and trying to stay optimistic.

It didn’t work.

The people surrounding him still felt suffocating, their breaths reeking of alcohol. When he tried to dance, it ended up with him stiffly stepping back and forth, uncoordinatedly bobbing his head as he did so.

Allura looked like she was having fun, at least. After figuring out that trying to coax Keith into loosening up was pointless, she had gone off and found her own dance partner—though not after Keith had to convince her that he’d be fine on his own—and they both were getting into it.

At one point he tried to find Adam and Shiro—which he did, but they were having drinks together at one of the seating areas, seeming to get _very comfortable_ with each other with every passing moment, and he figured it would be best to leave them alone.

So that’s how he ended up back on a barstool, half heartedly sipping on some drink that he hadn’t really cared to look at before ordering.

“Well you don’t look like you’re having fun.”

At the voice, Keith looked up, only to see the bartender who had served his drink looking back at him. He glanced to his sides, trying to see if anyone else was there, before asking, “You’re talking to me?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Nobody else looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

“I—right, right. Yeah. Sorry,” he said. “This is just . . . not my element.”

“Don’t worry man, I get it. This isn’t exactly my favorite place either,” he said. “Usually I like to work at bars rather than clubs. It’s a lot more friendly, you know? I get to have nice conversations and meet cool people. But here it’s just demanding more shots while wasted.”

There was a pause. “Oh, uh, yeah, that makes sense. That must suck.” The second the words left his mouth, Keith cringed. _That must suck._ What kind of response was that?

In his defense, though, he had been taken back with surprise. He hadn’t expected a bartender to make conversation with him, what with his unapproachable presence. Not to mention a kind of—sort of—actually really attractive one.

 _No, shut up,_ he thought to himself. _You’re half drunk and being delusional._

“Hah, yeah, it kinda does,” the bartender replied, completely unaware of Keith’s internal dilemma. “It’s why I approached you, honestly. Needed a break from hammered idiots.”

“Glad to help.”

At that, he grinned, opening his mouth to reply. But before he could say anything someone was calling him toward them. “Gimme a moment,” he said, before walking over and helping the customer.

Not having anything better to do, Keith found himself watching as the man mixed the drink with crafted expertise, their muscles shifting under the fitted black button-down. He served the final product with an easy smile before making his way back to Keith, who frantically looked down to cover his staring.

Stupid, half-drunk brain.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” he said, “The name’s Lance.”

“Uh, Keith,” he replied, shaking the hand Lance had held out. Were his palms sweating?

“So, Keith,” Lance started, “what made you come here, if you don’t like clubs?”

Keith snorted. “Stubborn friends who insist that it’s good for me.”

“Oh, you mean the girl you were with earlier?” he asked, then seemed to rethink himself. “Wait, no. That sounds like I’m a stalker or something. I was helping the people next to you guys, is all.”

With a laugh, Keith said, “Yeah. It was her, my brother, and his fiancé. They, uh, practically had to drag me here. Because apparently I isolate myself too much.”

Some part of Keith vaguely wondered why he was telling this to a stranger—but the other part of Keith was halfway through his third drink, slightly more than tipsy now and not putting much thought into what he said. And Lance _was_ pretty cute . . .

“So they dragged you to a club and they’re not even hanging out with you?” Lance asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, really. I think we all knew this was going to happen, anyway,” he said. “And I’d rather them go have fun over letting me hold them back.”

Lance hummed. “Do you know where they are now?”

“Uh,” Keith started, looking toward the crowds. “Allura’s dancing. Shiro and Adam were on one of the sofa’s—they’re probably making out by now?”

“Would they _really_ be engaged if they weren’t?” Keith laughed at that.

A moment later Lance had to excuse himself as someone else called him over, and then another, and another. There wasn’t any time between customers where he could come back to their conversation—but then again, why would he? Keith was just another customer among hundreds, really. Not to mention that he wasn’t exactly the most exciting person to talk to.

As Lance mixed drink after drink, Keith couldn’t help his eyes from following him.What else was he supposed to do, anyway? All he was doing was sitting with an empty glass, he had to have _something_ to keep his attention to.

“He’s cute.”

Jerking his head back, Keith looked beside him to see Allura sitting there. When did she get back?

He blinked. “Um.” Allura raised an eyebrow. “How was dancing?”

“Smooth topic change,” she said with a smirk. “And it was fun. Would have been better if you had joined me, I must say.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Keith said. “I tried, really. It’s just . . . so sweaty in there.”

She laughed. “I’m only kidding, Keith. Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I will admit, it was ambitious bringing you to a club. I’m surprised you came in the first place.”

He snorted. “Nice to know you have faith in me.”

“Always,” she said. “Anyway, back to my first statement.” She nodded to where Lance was pouring a margarita.

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled.

She held her hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“It was implied.”

“What was?”

Keith groaned in defeat. “It’s only because I’m kind of drunk, I swear.”

“Obviously,” she said without much conviction.

“Nevermind. It’s not like I wanna do anything about it, anyway,” he said pointedly.

Allura shrugged. “Whatever you want to do,” she said. “Water?”

He took the glass from her, glad for the cooling sensation that calmed the alcohol in him. “Thanks,” he said, deeply exhaling as he gave the glass back.

“Of course.”

They continued talking for a while as the alcohol wore off slightly, and with it came the return of his full senses. The music was blasting into his skull again, the crowds stifling anything pleasant about this place.

“Anyway,” she eventually said, “I told the person I was with I’d be back soon. Will you be alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about me,” Keith said, standing with her. “I think I’m going to get some air. Take a walk or something.”

“Want some company?”

They both turned to the voice, only to see Lance standing there.

“Oh—uh,” Keith started, and he could feel Allura watching him with a raised brow. “Aren’t you working?”

“Would be, but I have a short shift today,” he said. “It ends in, like, a minute.”

“Oh,” Keith said again. “Um. Sure. Yeah, yeah that’d be cool if you came.”

“Great!” Lance said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll meet you outside?”

All Keith could do was nod, and then Lance was walking to some back room.

“‘ _It’s not like I wanna do anything about it, anyway_ ,’” Allura mimicked.

“He offered!” Keith insisted.

“But you accepted,” she said. “You _do_ want him to join you, right?”

“ . . . Maybe?” he said

“And there’s my point,” she replied. “Anywho, I’ve got someone waiting on me. Have fun, don’t die.”

“You too,” Keith replied, watching as Allura pushed herself through the crowd.

Later, Keith watched as Lance emerge from the building, changed from his form fitting bartender uniform into dark jeans and a sweater. And he hated it, if only because he couldn’t blame the attraction on alcohol anymore.

“Hey!” Lance said happily, oddly energetic for the absurd time it was.

“Hi.”

“So that was Allura just then?” he asked, walking along with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, that was her,” he said. “Shiro’s my brother. Adam’s his fiancé.”

“Cool, cool,” he replied. “You seem close. You and Allura, I mean.”

Keith shrugged. “I’ve known her since high school. Wouldn’t have survived it without her.”

Lance nodded. “I’ve got a friend like that, too” he said. “His name’s Hunk, and he’s a godsend of a chef.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah!” he replied excitedly. “Like, I can dabble around with food, but if Hunk wasn’t around then I don’t know what I’d do. Plus, our neighbor’s love us because sometimes we give them leftovers.”

Keith snorted. “Wish my friends could cook.”

The conversation died down, and they walked for a bit in silence. It wasn’t exactly an awkward quiet, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. Keith didn't mind it, though. He relished in the cool night air, glad to be away from flashing lights and hoards of people and alcohol.

After a while, Lance spoke up again. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m not really trying to go anywhere,” Keith replied. “Just . . . walking.”

Lance thought for a moment. “I have an idea,” he said, then started walking off in another direction. When Keith was slow to follow, though, he turned back. “You coming?”

“I barely know you,” he reasoned. Then, after a pause, he said, “What if you’re—I don’t know, a murderer?”

Lance barked out a laugh. “ _God_ , you’re not still drunk, are you?” he said. “One: No, I’m not a murderer. Two: If I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already. Like, poisoned your drink or something.”

Keith snorted. “Fair point,” he said. “I guess I’ve got some sort of safety filter drilled into me because of Shiro.”

“If it makes anything better, I’ll personally deliver you to your brother later,” Lance said, glancing back at him as they continued to walk.

“That might not be the best idea,” he replied. “He and Adam are probably . . . really getting into it.”

At that, Lance chuckled. “Maybe not, then.”

Keith followed him easily after that, still not exactly sure _why_ he was taking a walk with someone he just met past midnight, but mostly enjoying himself nonetheless. His tired, post-drunk self couldn’t put in enough effort to really care.

As they kept walking, Keith felt the breeze pick up, the sound of lapping water emptily ringing through the night. A taste of salt made its way into the air, and the next thing he knew they were turning onto an expanse of sand, flat until it broke out into water.

“The beach, huh?” he asked.

“Yup! My favorite place,” Lance replied. “Nothing like Varadero, but it makes do.”

“Better than the club, at least,” Keith said.

He snorted. “You got that right.”

Suddenly, Keith’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Shiro.

 

(12:31 a.m.) **Shiro:** Hey, we’re leaving now. Are you alright?

(12:31 a.m.) **Keith:** Yeah, I’m great. Stay safe

(12:32 a.m.) **Shrio:** Don’t worry. I’m sober and driving. Allura too.

(12:32 a.m.) **Keith:** Oh, I know. I wasn’t talking about that

(12:33 a.m.) **Shiro:** Seriously, Keith?

(12:34 a.m.) **Shiro:** You know, I heard you were with that bartender . . .

(12:35 a.m.) **Keith:** Fuck off

(12:35 a.m.) **Shiro:** Love you too

 

Keith huffed as he returned the phone to his pocket, looking back up at Lance, only to see his eyes already on him. “Uh—sorry,” he said, instinctually diverting his gaze forward. “It was Shiro.”

“Don’t sweat it, man. It’s cool that he looks out for you.”

Then they were taking off their shoes and socks, dangling them on their fingers as they walked along the shoreline, toes sinking into the sand. The ends of his pants got wet, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to care, because this was calming. The subtle crash of waves, the breeze that made his hair all blow to the side, the utter _peacefulness_ of it all that was just so much better than that club.

And, yeah, _maybe_ he was with some random bartender that he’d met the same night, but what did it matter? He seemed to be a cool guy, and Shiro had said Keith needed to meet more people, anyway.

“You mentioned Varadero earlier,” Keith said, looking at Lance. "Have you been?" He regretted the words right as they left his mouth, because that was a stupid question, but Lance didn't seem to mind.

He grinned. It was the kind that took up his whole face, wrinkling his eyes at the corners. “Yeah, I’m from Cuba,” he said. “Still got some family down there, too.”

Keith hummed. “Do you ever visit?” 

“Not nearly as much as I’d like, but yeah, whenever I can,” Lance replied. “Where’s your family from?”

He paused. “Oh. Uh. Well,” Keith started before he could stop himself, “Shiro’s family is from Japan. I'm only half, though. They, uh, adopted me.”

Shit. He really just said that, didn’t he? That wasn’t something Keith generally liked to reveal within hours of meeting someone. Was it going to scare Lance off? Or make everything awkward?

He coughed. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Lance cut him off. “Nah, don’t worry. It’s cool,” was all he said, and Keith couldn’t stop himself from visibly relaxing in relief.

Conversation flowed easily from then, though admittedly it was Lance doing most the talking. He talked about how it was back in Cuba, about his mom’s favorite recipes and how his brother Marcos was the only sibling who could really master them.

Keith talked a bit too. He told him how the first time he had met Adam was when he delivered a completely hammered Shiro onto their doorstep at 3 a.m., trying to sound annoyed as he explained what had happened but wearing a grin the whole time.

They talked about whatever came to mind, and it was random but it was working.

“I’m in the process of finding a new job, too,” Lance said. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand being in a club. Hanging out at them is fun, but being on the other side of the bar is a whole ‘nother story.”

“Is the search going well?”

He grinned. “Yeah, actually. I’ve got an interview for a local bar in a few days,” he said. “I checked the place out before—it’s super chill and friendly. Would be a major step up from my current situation.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Keith said. “If you could convince a stranger to let you go on a walk with him at two a.m, I’m pretty sure you can nail an interview.”

Lance laughed, though it mixed in with a yawn. “The encouragement is much appreciated,” he said. “And fuck, wow. It’s really two a.m., isn’t it.”

“I guess so,” Keith said, and then paused. Because then it hit him. “ _Shit_. It’s two a.m. There aren’t any more trains.”

“Uh, no, I think the last one was half an hour ago.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “And that’s the one I was supposed to take,” he said. “Fuck. I’m so stupid.”

“You took a train here?” Lance asked.

“Yeah,” Keith replied. “I live, like, forty-ish minutes away. An hour maybe? I’m moving to this area soon, though, so Allura and them insisted I started getting to know the places, because they already live around here. And then I took a train here instead of my bike, just for the rare, rare chance that I would be drunk and unable to drive, which obviously didn’t end up being the case.” He took a deep breath. “Shit. Sorry. I’m rambling. Here, let me call them. They’re probably asleep but it’s worth a shot.”

He tapped his foot as he called Allura, and then Shiro, and then Adam, all to no avail. He tried again. Same result.

“Okay. Uh,” he muttered, mostly to himself, because right now the fact that Lance was there was only a vague thought in the back of his mind, the rest of it being _Where the fuck are you gonna wait until morning._ “I’ll figure something out. It’ll be fine.”

Lance coughed. “You could, uh,” he started, keeping his eyes forward. “You could stay at my place? Hunk’s gone for the weekend—not that he’d mind anyway, he’s the nicest guy ever—so you won’t freak anyone out in the morning.”

Keith whipped his gaze to Lance. “Oh, no, it’s fine. Really, I—I can’t do that,” he insisted. “I’ll get an Uber or something.”

“And wait for an hour car drive at two a.m.? Plus paying? I don’t think so,” Lance said. “Seriously, dude, it’s fine. We already established I’m not a murderer. Just come to my place, and tomorrow I can bring you to the train station. Or maybe one of your friends could drive you home so you don’t have to buy a ticket. Hell, I could even drive you back, I’ve got the day off tomorrow.”

Keith hesitated, looking back in front of him. “I don’t know,” he said with uncertainty. “I can’t ask that of you—”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Lance said pointedly. “I wanna help. Please?”

He looked over to see Lance looking back at him, head tilted. They had a mini stare-down, which eventually had Keith relenting.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “But really. Don’t be afraid to kick me out at any moment. And I owe you one, big time.”

“Noted,” Lance said as they pulled their shoes back on, heading back in the direction of the club.

Once they were there, Lance led them to the back parking lot where a blue Jeep was parked. He unlocked the car and climbed into the driver’s side, Keith getting onto the passenger side a moment later.

“Nice ride,” he said as he shut the door.

“Thanks. I call her Blue. Big surprise, I know,” he said, sticking the key into the ignition. “What do you drive? Did you mention a bike earlier?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah.”

“So like . . . a bicycle?”

Keith laughed, though it felt strained. “A _motorcycle_ , genius.”

“Oh! Right, right, I should’ve figured that out,” he said. “I’m just tired. It’s, like, past two a.m. _and_ I’m driving, so cut me some slack.”

The more they drove, the more Keith’s heart seemed to pound. What the hell was he doing? He’d met Lance _a few hours ago_ , and now it was past two a.m. and he was about to stay over at his house because he was a dumbass and lost track of time.

He inwardly cringed. This was embarrassing as fuck.

They reached an apartment complex, and he followed as Lance led them through the building, taking the stairs up to the second floor, opening up the room on the left at the end of the hallway.

It opened to a living room area, transforming into a dining area on the other side of the space. The kitchen sat behind a large archway to the left, and a hallway branched off to the right, presumably leading off to bedrooms.

“I’ll go grab a blanket so you can crash on the couch,” Lance said, making his way toward the hallway. “There’s water in the fridge if you want.” And then he was gone.

Keith, already feeling like he was intruding, did not get the offered water, even though it would’ve been nice right about now.

How was Lance being so casual about this? He doubted that he let random strangers say over at his house often, so it wasn’t as if this was a normal situation. Yet he was acting like it was one, what with how relaxed he seemed and how easily he talked.

“Heads up,” Lance said as he returned, tossing over a blanket.

It was more that the blanket landed on Keith rather than he caught it, but he didn’t drop it and that was all that mattered. “Oh,” he said, “thanks. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Dude, really, it’s no problem. I’m glad to help,” he replied. “Bathroom’s the second door on left. If a serial killer breaks in, then, like, shriek or something.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “Has that ever happened?”

“Well, no, but better safe than sorry.”

“Right.”

Lance turned back down the hallway. “Night.”

“Night.”

Keith was left in darkness, the only light coming from the opening beneath Lance’s door. Tentatively, he pulled of his shoes, taking off the thin red jacket he was wearing as he  made his way onto the couch.

For a while he laid there, trying to stop his mind from replaying every scene from the last few hours that had led him to this situation. The effort failed, though, and he eventually fell asleep with the blanket pulled up to his neck, cringing with embarrassment but not exactly regretting it either.

 

He awoke with a dull burning behind his eyelids.

Groggily, he opened his eyes, only to find that the painful sensation increased with the exposure. Tears were collecting in them as he sat up in the couch

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed, resisting the urge to rub at his face.

“Uh . . .” came Lance’s voice from the hallway. “You alright, man?”

 _Oh, right._ He’d almost forgotten where he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied. “Just—I slept with my contacts in. Didn’t realize.” First he forgot his train, now he forgot his contacts. Fantastic.

“Shoot, I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

“Apparently I didn’t either,” he muttered, before bringing his hands up to pull them out.

It burned to touch them, but he bit his lip through it, ignoring the way he could feel Lance’s gaze sitting on him.

Once they were both sitting on his palm, he brought his forearm up to wipe the tears from his eyes, then stood up from the couch. “Um, do you have plastic bags I can use?” he asked, blinking away the pain in his eyes as his vision turned to shit.

“Sure. Here, follow me.”

As Keith followed him over to the kitchen, he took the band around his wrist and pulled his hair back into it, hiding the horrendous bedhead he was probably sporting. He tried to see himself in one of the wall mirrors, but without anything helping his eyes most things looked like a blur.

After rifling through a drawer, Lance came up with two bags, turning around to give them to him. “Are these the right . . . uh . . .” he drifted off

Before he could do anything, Keith felt his face grow hot, and he jerked his gaze over to the sink, the oven behind Lance, anywhere but his eyes. What was it? Did he do something? He probably smelled like shit, after not showering or brushing his teeth last night. And there were probably bags under his eyes.

Another moment passed, and he couldn’t handle the silence. “You good?” Keith asked, still not looking him directly in the eye.

Lance coughed. “Um—yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—really tired, you know?” He coughed again. “Anyway. Will these work?” He held out two, small, plastic bags.

Keith decided not to question it, because, hell, he was tired as fuck too. “Yeah, those are fine. Thanks a ton.”

“‘Course.”

Taking the bags, Keith made his way over to the sink as Lance rummaged through the fridge, filling them each with water before dropping one contact into each, because he was an idiot who didn’t carry solution with him and this was the best he could do for now.

A buzz rang from the coffee table in the other room—Keith’s phone—and he excused himself before going to check it, holding the phone close to his face so the screen didn’t fuzz at the edges.

There was a text:

 

(9:17 a.m.) **Allura:** Did you get home alright?

 

 _Ah_. This was going to be a fun explanation.

 

(9:18 a.m.) **Keith:** Uh, not exactly

(9:18 a.m.) **Allura:** Are you okay??

(9:18 a.m.) **Keith:** I’m fine. Just not home

(9:19 a.m.) **Allura:** Oh?

(9:19 a.m.) **Allura:** Where are you then?

(9:19 a.m.) **Keith:** Lance’s place

(9:19 a.m.) **Allura:** Lance?

(9:20 a.m.) **Keith:** The bartender

(9:20 a.m.) **Allura:** _Oh??_

(9:20 a.m.) **Keith:** Not like that, shut up

(9:20 a.m.) **Keith:** I missed the last train last night. I was gonna get an Uber but Lance insisted

(9:20 a.m.) **Allura:** _Right_

(9:21 a.m.) **Keith:** I’m being serious

(9:21 a.m.) **Keith:** The point is I need someone to pick me up

(9:21 a.m.) **Allura:** Are you asking me?

(9:21 a.m.) **Keith:** Yeah. Can you?

(9:21 a.m.) **Allura:** Of course. What’s the address?

 

After he sent the address, he sent quick explanations to Adam and Shiro, then clicked his phone off, slipping it back in his pocket. He made his way back to the kitchen, where the blurry image of Lance was pulling two pieces of . . . _something_ out of what he thought was a toaster.

“Want one?” Lance asked.

Keith squinted. “What are they?”

“. . . Waffles?” A few seconds passed, then suddenly he said, “Oh, right! You can’t see right now.”

He snorted. “You got that right,” Keith said. “And sure, I’ll have one. Thanks.”

“ _No hay problema_. You’re the guest.”

Taking the offered waffle, he said, “I’m only here because I was a dumbass and forgot about my train.”

“Pfft, who cares? It was fun,” Lance said. “Not to mention—tipsy you? Cute.”

Keith only rolled his eyes at that, partly because he had waffle in his mouth but mainly because if he’d spoken in that moment it would’ve come out as something stupid.

No, he _wasn’t_ going to let one attractive guy he met less than twelve hours ago make him flustered. _Nope_. He refused.

“By the way,” he said after a moment, “Allura should be here soon to pick me up.”

“Oh. Alright,” Lance replied, something different about his tone. Was that . . . disappointment?

 _Stop it,_ Keith told himself. That was just high hoping.

The next ten minutes was filled with random small talk along with gaps of silence that weren’t entirely unbearable—and then the doorbell rang.

He pulled on his shoes as Lance opened up the door, grabbing his jacket and contacts before he walking over.

“Hi! Allura, right?” Lance said, leaning against the door.

“Yeah,” Allura replied, probably looking at Keith with a suggestive expression, but

to him it was all a blur of silver hair and brown skin, her facial features fuzzing together. “And you’re Lance?”

“Yup!”

Allura hummed. “Well, I’d like to apologize about Keith here. He can be a mess.”

Lance snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“Well thanks,” Keith deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, I mean it in the best way possible,” Allura said, probably grinning. “Anyway, I think it’s best we’d be going soon. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lance.”

“You too!”

“Thanks again,” Keith said as he stepped out the doorway, taking a place beside Allura.

He grinned. “‘Course, Keith. Anytime.”

The door shut behind them, and they walked in silence until they were both buckled in the car, Allura pulling out of the parking spot.

“So,” she started, keeping her eyes on the road. “What happened exactly?”

“Not what you’re thinking, let me start,” he said. “It wasn’t much, really. Why’re you making it a big deal?”

“Because you’ve been cooping yourself up for much too long, and suddenly you’re easily bonding with a stranger past midnight? How can I not?” she replied. “Now, I want a detail-by-detail description of the whole thing. Go.”

Sighing, Keith told her what happened, from the club to the beach to the waffles, and ending with, “Now I’m here, unshowered, I haven’t brushed my teeth, and I can barely see.”

Allura laughed. “You really _are_ a mess, aren’t you?” she said, getting an annoyed groan from Keith. “When are you going to see each other again?”

His brow furrowed. “We’re not?”

At that she took a second to look at Keith, confused. “What? Why not?”

“There’s no reason to?” he said. “I was another bar-goer out of hundreds. Just another customer.”

Allura let out a bark of laughter, incredulous. “Keith, you must be joking,” she said. “Do you really think he offers to go on walks—past midnight, mind you—with just any customer?”

There was a pause. “Uh—”

“You guys took a long walk at the beach at two a.m., and then you proceeded to stay over at his apartment,” she said. “If that doesn’t scream romantic cliché then I don’t know what does.”

“He was probably just being friendly!” he said.

“ _Keith_ , oh my God,” she said, exasperated. “You are so oblivious.”

“Whatever,” he said. “I was embarrassed as hell the entire time. And it’s not like we’re ever gonna run into each other again.”

“You should text him.”

“Don’t have his number.”

She sighed. “Of course you don’t.”

He scowled. “Between being post-drunk, tired as fuck, and not being able to see, _my bad_ if I didn’t get a phone number.”

“Ah, nevermind” she said.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Keith said, then switched topics. “Wanna get food after this? All I had was a toaster waffle.”

“Gladly, I’m starving.”

He hummed in response, and then they slid into a comfortable silence. As time passed, Keith felt himself slouch against the seat, eyelids drooping and before eventually bringing him to unconsciousness.

 

When he woke up this time, his eyes felt fine.

They were pulling into a parking spot in front of Keith’s apartment building, the radio quietly playing some pop song that Allura was humming along too.

“Alright,” she said, taking the key out of the ignition once the car was parked. “You need to get cleaned up—I wasn’t lying when I said you were a mess.”

“Love you too,” he deadpanned, stepping out of the car.

His apartment was small, though the emptiness of it at the moment gave it the illusion of being larger. A lot of things were in boxes, prepared for the move, stacked against the walls.

On a kitchen counter sat his glasses, and he slid them on, relieved to have his vision back. He’d have to wear them for the next day to give his eyes a break, which was annoying, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

Before brushing his teeth, Keith took the time to let his hair out of the band, reaching for a comb.

At that moment Allura popped up in the open doorway. “Hey, did you still have—” she stopped. “Keith?”

“Yeah?” he questioned.

“Keith,” she said again. “Keith. You’re holding a toothbrush.”

He brought his hands in front of his face, only to see that Allura was right. In his hand was indeed a toothbrush. Not a comb.

“How the fuck . . .”

“I was going to ask if you had tea.”

Keith sighed. “Cabinet above the toaster.”

She nodded. “I’ll make some for you too—I think you may be more in need of caffeine then I am.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said, turning back to the hallway. “Don’t blind yourself while I’m gone.”

All he did was roll his eyes at that.

Once _actually_ combing his hair, Keith took the time to brush his teeth and take a quick shower, glad to finally feel clean of the club. Though, it got rid of the slight remnant smell of Lance’s house, which was a shame—

No. No, it wasn’t.

He shook his head, throwing the thoughts away, before padding has is way to the kitchen, where a mug of tea sat on the counter by Allura. She had her own mug in front of her while she typed away at her phone.

“Who’re you texting?” he asked, grabbing his cup before he sat on the stool next to her.

For another minute she didn’t answer, focused on her conversation, before setting her phone on the table. “Apparently I’m pet sitting for Kosmo tomorrow while you guys go through wedding plans.”

“Can’t we switch jobs?”

Allura snorted. “I’ll pass,” she said. “Wedding cake arguments aren’t my cup of tea.”

“Some friend you are.”

They finished the rest of their tea in silence, Keith feeling relieved once the caffeine started kicking in. It was good to have his senses back to their prime and not slowed down by an ever present exhaustion.

“Don’t bother getting your keys,” Allura said before they left. “We’re taking my car. I’m not getting on your death machine.”

He held his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine,” he replied, then followed her out the door.

 

**Author's Note:**

> shitshow over babey !!! i probably forgot to fix some stuff and i'm not even sure if i'll ever continue this but who knows  
> sorry if the formatting is wack idk how posting stuff here works yet hah  
> anyway if you managed to read all that then thank you, it's appreciated :')  
> i've got a tumblr if you wanted to check that out: @deanwaterkeep


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